


Sors Immanis et Inanis

by Naphyla



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Breathplay, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sefikura Week 2021, Underage Sex, foot job involving a leather boot, please read the tags before proceeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naphyla/pseuds/Naphyla
Summary: Nibelheim had burned—was still burning—engulfed in thick smoke and unnatural flames. He had crawled out of what used to be his childhood home, consumed by confusion and hatred, fear and woe, knowing that the man who had set it ablaze was once his hero.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55
Collections: Sefikura (Sephiroth/Cloud) Week - Yearly Event





	Sors Immanis et Inanis

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 Prompt: Free Day
> 
> I'm glad I got to participate and write for Sefikura Week this year (even if it was written for for the free day prompt)! This is my first attempt at writing a PWP fic, and I think I definitely jumped into the deep end right off the bat and have used up one too many brain cells than is maybe advised lmao. 
> 
> I would like to thank BloodAsh, dytabytes, and Gary for beta-ing, giving me lots of feedback, and just general hand-holding for the last few weeks of my life. I couldn't have done this without you! 
> 
> The title of the fic is a lyric taken directly from One-Winged Angel meaning “fate, monstrous and empty.” Cheesy, I know, but it seemed fitting.

His stomach lurched with unease as he neared the reactor. 

Nibelheim had burned—was still burning—engulfed in thick smoke and unnatural flames. He had crawled out of what used to be his childhood home, consumed by confusion and hatred, fear and woe, knowing that the man who had set it ablaze was once his hero. 

The entrance to the facility had been left ajar, marred by blood and muddied footprints. He took the foreboding invitation, followed the winding trail down into the heart of the reactor, the pit of dread boring deeper into his stomach with every footfall. 

A startling clash of metal erupted from down the hall and he took off, getting to the room just in time to see Zack being cast down the stairs with a yelp. His eyes darted up, catching a patch of pale hair against dark leather before the ethereal form retreated into the room beyond.

A quiet groan brought his attention back to the man sprawled face down at the base of the stairs, and angry guilt bit into him with a snarl. He rushed over, quickly making sure Zack was okay before brushing aside his friend’s frail attempt at stopping him to run up the stairs after the Silver General. 

The sickly glow of mako painted eerie shadows where Sephiroth stood in the middle of the chamber, hands held high as he whispered hallowed endearments to the nightmare inside the glass tank. Warm, gentle hands that had rubbed his back in awkward circles to soothe his rioting stomach on the bumpy ride to town. The same hands that had slaughtered his mother and wiped his blade on her tarnished hem. His wrath kindled.

He picked up the Buster Sword with tattered strength, ignoring the way his arms protested at the weapon’s weight. As he approached the man seemingly lost in a worship, he steeled his blade and lunged with all his might. 

The tip of the sword was a hair’s breadth from Sephiroth’s back when he felt his weapon ripped out of his grip by the impact of another. Searing pain cleaved through his being as he felt the blade of Masamune planting into his shoulder. 

He let out a guttural scream. 

“To think that a rat like you would dare to try and sneak up on me,” Sephiroth mocked, the note of cruelty striking a strange timbre in the familiar baritone voice. 

“Nibelheim…. How c-could...you! I...looked up to you...” His voice was strangled, raw with rage and desperation all at once. 

“Did you now?” Sephiroth drawled, twisting Masamune deeper, and watched him writhe. “But there’s something else...isn’t there, Cadet?” 

Sephiroth plucked the weapon from his flesh with practiced grace, wringing a brief cry of pain from his lips. He staggered forward, compelled his swaying feet to remain upright when the man closed their distance and—to his bewilderment—caught his jaw with leather-clad fingers. 

“Did you think your conversations with Lieutenant Fair were elusive in the least?” His neck stretched uncomfortably when Sephiroth forced his head further back. “Or perhaps, you had _hoped_ that I would notice?” 

He frowned at the puzzling words, when suddenly, the pieces fell into place. 

Zack had teased him ever since the SOLDIER found out he had been assigned to the Nibelheim mission. His friend’s pestering had not stopped even after their mission had begun, only swapping his boisterous meddling for muted nudges. 

It would have been a fond memory to look back on: his first mission together with his childhood idol, his— 

“Sephiroth!” His mind was wrestled out of its hive when he caught Zack’s wobbling form stepping into the bleak room. “What’s gotten into you! Snap out of it! This isn’t who you are!”

Bitter ire flicked across Sephiroth’s face. “You seem very certain of that.” The bangle around his wrist lit up, unleashing a jagged bolt that struck its target, too slow to avoid the spell. 

“Zack!” Hot tears trickled down his cheeks as he watched his friend fall to the ground. He thrashed against Sephiroth’s hold, not caring for the pain tearing at his shoulder. 

But the grip around his jaw only tightened further. “Supposedly, SOLDIERs are rather difficult to take out with spells alone. But we can test that hypothesis, if you are so inclined.”

He ceased struggling immediately. 

Sephiroth’s eyes crinkled in delight, pleased by the way he had fallen in line. The man unsummoned his blade and examined him with unblinking, open curiosity. “Perhaps, I should reassess.” 

He was still digging at the enigmatic words when Sephiroth descended on him. He gasped, too stunned to pull away when a rough tongue slammed into his mouth to scour the narrow space. When the shock wore off, he felt himself flush, skin tingling in betrayal. He tried to bite or turn away, but the General was always one step ahead; sharp tugs and incessant lips made futile his attempts at escape. When Sephiroth relinquished his hold at last, he slid to the floor, curling in on himself to hide his shameful, swelling desire. 

“Why...why are you doing this?” he said, voice fraying at the edges. The taste of salt lingered on his tongue.

“Is this not what you wanted? To hold my attention?” Sephiroth loomed over him and pressed a leather boot into his tented crotch. “And now, you have it.”

He let loose a shattered whine when that boot began to drag along his length in long, lazy strokes. He was powerless to stop his cock from stirring to fullness, hating that his body thrummed at the blatant infliction of humiliation. He squirmed, tried to evade the man’s degrading touch, but the foot between his legs only increased its pressure, and pleasure veered into pain.

“It would seem that you don’t fully appreciate the position you are in, Cadet Strife.” Sephiroth’s tone was mild, but he knew better than to take it at face value. “It would not be a hardship for me to find other means of entertaining myself.” 

When the man dropped his gaze to Zack’s lying body on the platform below, the silent threat was not lost on him. 

“Perhaps it’s time you made a more serious attempt at holding my interest.” Sephiroth lifted his boot gingerly from his erection, raking gloved fingers through his hair to guide his face none too gently to the bulge lying half-dormant inside leather pants. He looked up, eyes prickling at the display of vicious mirth on his once-hero’s face, horrified that Sephiroth would ask this of him. The man had once been austere, sincere, and kind in his own way. But now, it was as though a fiend wore his General’s husk. 

Sephiroth gave his hair a demanding tug before his thoughts strayed further. Resigned, he fumbled to free the man’s erection with his uninjured arm. Even half-hard, he balked at the length resting in his palm, and was appalled by the way his own cock pulsed inside his trousers. Not knowing where to start, he tried wrapping his good hand around the imposing girth and gave the shaft an experimental lick, forcing himself not to jump back when the cock in his hand twitched. He took the movement as a sign to continue mouthing it, hoping this would be enough to appease the man. 

He was lapping his way clumsily around the tip when the fingers clutching his hair tightened painfully. “Watch where you put your teeth,” was the only warning he got before Sephiroth jerked his hips forward and forced his cock into his mouth. He gagged, a muffled cry of surprise dying between his lips as he tried to push himself away from the sudden intrusion. But the hand in his hair weld him in place, forcing him to swallow around the thick shaft that seemed to endlessly advance until his lips met its base. His throat clamped down, desperate for air. Then, with a satisfied hum, Sephiroth drew his cock out, taking his time to let spit spread over his length before driving it back in. 

When Sephiroth began thrusting into his throat in earnest, he squeezed his tear-stung eyes shut, gulping for ill-timed breaths that only kept the air further from his lungs. Saliva leaked from his open mouth to form viscid strands that clung to the base of the man’s swollen cock. 

Somewhere between one thrust and the next, a coil of pleasure began collecting at his groin at the feeling of extinguished breaths. The sensation piled up, building higher until his head was wiped clean in a white, searing flash. Every fibre of his being was wound up so tight that he thought he might snap in half. The man using his mouth picked up speed, pounding into his face with fervent strength. Then, with a rumbling sigh, Sephiroth lodged his cock deep in his throat and shot his load. 

The man let him go when he pulled back this time, choking on thick liquid his mouth could not hold. He stumbled, falling backwards into the glass tank like a boneless ragdoll. Stripes of cum fell onto his hair and face as Sephiroth gave his own erection a few last pumps, lips stretched into a wicked grin as he marked him with the remainder of his release. 

“My, my. Looks like you made a mess of yourself,” Sephiroth taunted, rubbing the wet patch between his legs with a firm heel. He winced, emerging from the high with shame hot on his cheeks and turning to hide his disgrace. 

Sephiroth bent down, wiping away a streak of cum from his chin. The touch was so soft that it took him aback, stirring memories of this same gloved hand that once gently rested on his back. “How hopelessly you must have desired me, if all it took to bring you to completion was your lips around my cock,” Sephiroth whispered, tainting his aching heart with poisoned words as he petted his face absently. “Perhaps, a reward is in order. I _am_ in a generous mood.”

He felt himself being hoisted up and flipped around, pushed against the smooth, cool glass of the tank as efficient hands stripped away his gear and clothes. He struggled, wringing hot pain from his wounded shoulder, but the hard muscles pressed against his back were unrelenting, trapping his thrashing frame rigidly in place. 

“It’s a little late for denial, isn’t it? We both know that it is my embrace you seek,” Sephiroth leaned against his ear and spoke. Soft, silver hair kissed his bare shoulders, sending shivers down his spine.

He was too weak to deny the glove-wrapped fingers that coaxed open his mouth to caress his tongue and teeth. So gentle was the way Sephiroth explored his mouth that, for a heart beat, he forgot he was this man’s unwilling prisoner. 

“How eager you look to consume me.” Dread and need mingled to pool at the base of his stomach when Sephiroth reached behind him, sliding a slicked finger between his cheeks to brush the tight ring of muscles. His body tensed when it entered, muscles clenching as though trying to expel the foreign digit twisting in and out of his hole. But when the man’s finger curled to knead a spot inside him, he could do nothing but shudder against the warm cage of skin, leather, and metal. “Good boy,” Sephiroth crooned, hot breath dancing over the shell of his ear as he added a second finger and continued stretching his hole with vigor. He quivered, loath to admit how easily he melted into submission at those two simple words. 

Sephiroth wrapped his other hand around his still-sensitive cock, squeezing a whine from him as the man began coating it with remnants of his spilt seed. It took only a handful of slow, deliberate strokes before his cock hardened, warming the cool leather of the man’s glove with his too-hot shaft. Sometimes, Sephiroth’s hand would wander up his length to pinch the delicate skin below the groove of his tip until his knees buckled from the strumming pleasure. 

By the time the fingers inside his ass withdrew, his cock was curving into a straining arc. Sephiroth gave it one last pump before sliding his gloved hand down to his hips, leaving a smear of fresh pre-cum trailing down his throbbing erection. Leather and metal scratched against his flushed skin as the man looming over him positioned his swollen member between his cheeks. He swallowed when Sephiroth rubbed teasingly at his entrance, no longer sure if the anxiety rising in his chest was fanned by fear or anticipation.

It burned when Sephiroth pushed in, penetrating him in one steady thrust until his entire length was seated to the hilt. He groaned at the discomfort of having his insides pulled taut around the man’s immense cock. Yet, to his surprise, Sephiroth remained utterly still after, as though giving him time to adjust to the strange sensation. It stood in stark contrast with the way that the man had rutted into his face with cruel abandon only minutes ago. There was no love in the arms that cradled him, he knew. It was nothing more than feigned intimacy, but he leaned into it nonetheless.

He felt Sephiroth stir—the grip around his hips and chest tightening—and let out a yelp when the man straightened, lifting his feet off the floor to let gravity bury his length ever deeper. The half-forged protest on his tongue perished when Sephiroth ground his hips in a tight circle, rolling into the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him. He threw his head back, shame entirely forgotten as he revelled in the heat surging in his groin, craving more. But Sephiroth did not answer his need. The man wielded perfect control as he drove into him at a steady pace. The thrusts were excruciatingly tender, enough to kindle his desire, but did nothing to sate his hunger. He writhed in agony, pushing into the hard mast that speared him, desperate for any friction to bring him closer to his release. 

“Look how your body craves my touch, how it wants to mould itself to mine.” Sephiroth chuckled at his unbridled display of lust and continued to rock his hips languidly. “How you seek to surrender control, tugged along by the strings of my will. To unravel under my ministrations, coming undone.” 

Something brittle within him seemed to crumble at the enticing words. “Please...” he sobbed as he meld further into Sephiroth’s larger frame, begging to be taken apart.

Sephiroth obliged, folding his knees up and locking him in place before pounding into him with wrecking force. His mouth hung open to shape a hollow wail as Sephiroth’s cock pummeled into his prostate with each thrust. The barrage of pleasure sent a violent storm of tremors through his body, clamped down only by the powerful arms that bound him in place. 

“Dance for me, puppet.” Sephiroth's tantalizing words grazed his ear and he teetered over the edge without warning. Spurts of hot seed spun long ropes, speckling his chin and torso as his muscles seized with ecstasy. A few strings of cum dribbled down his pumping cock and licked their way to his entrance, where Sephiroth was still tirelessly drilling into him.

When the fog slowly lifted from his pleasure-addled mind, he found himself looking into Zack’s violet-blue eyes, staring wide with horror from across the room. 

“No…” His hoarse voice shook with dread. He let out a mangled moan when Sephiroth delivered a particularly hard thrust, and fresh humiliation crashed into him, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sephiroth did not once break rhythm while he struggled feebly to escape the sweet, punishing grinds, until at last, the man let loose a feral growl and, too, reached his peak.

* * *

Cloud woke with a start in his apartment on top of 7th Heaven, breath ragged and drenched in a cold sweat. He winced, head pounding with muffled pain. 

The nightmare was growing distant as his mind found its way back to the present, away from the tormenting touch of the ghost of his past. But the evidence of his shame remained, cold and hash and sticky between his legs. 

He had defeated Sephiroth, thrice slain the man. The reality of his crimes were absolute. Yet, some part of Cloud still yearned for the calamity who had been his whole world once upon a time. 

He reigned in the twisted, ugly thoughts—fetid shadows of a once-innocent crush—quashed them small and locked them away between heartbeats, content to let the venom fester. 

After all, they were his punishment to carry.


End file.
